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The Golden SongThe wine is thick and tastes of iron and old blood, pooling in the center of the oak table where you have sat for three days, watching the candlelight flicker against the high stone walls of the Abbey of St. Jude, a place that has swallowed more secrets than the sea swallows ships, and you are here not as a guest but as a warden, a man tasked with the impossible duty of finding the flaw in a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CartographThe fog in the valley is not merely weather. It is a living thing, a thick, gray wool that presses against the glass of the watchtower and seeps into the joints of the iron frame. You know this because you have lived inside it for three years, three years since the commissioning of the new atmospheric monitoring station at Blackwood Ridge. The air here tastes of rust and wet stone. It settles...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale LetterThe rain hit the windowpane. It sounded like knuckles rapping on bone. I lay in the dark. My eyes were open. I saw the water bead. I saw it slide. One drop. Then another. The glass was cold. The air was colder. I wore my tunic. I wore my boots. I did not take them off. I had not slept in three days. The city hummed outside. A low growl. A mechanical beast. I was a soldier. I was a ghost. I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CompassYou’re in the box. Don’t look up. Look at the floor. It’s cold. Concrete. Wet. Smells like rust. And old blood. I can feel it. Through the soles of my shoes. My hands are shaking. Tie them tighter. That’s the order. From the top. From the man in the suit. Mr. Sterling. He’s nice. He’s always nice. He brings coffee. Black. No sugar. He says, "We’re just trying to help you, David." Help me. What...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GardenThe dream came first. It always does. Marcus held the blue glass bird in his hand. It was cold. Colder than ice. Colder than the river in winter. He looked at it. The light inside the glass moved. It was not light. It was eyes. Hundreds of small, bright eyes. They looked at him. He dropped it. It hit the stone floor. It did not shatter. It did not make a sound. It simply stopped being. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a thick, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the cobblestones and the fog. It was a vertical deluge, cold and relentless, soaking into the bones of the city until the architecture itself seemed to weep. Major Elias Thorne stood beneath the eave of the old customs house, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the street below. He was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden VisitYou are standing in the middle of a room that does not exist, or perhaps it exists only in the space between one heartbeat and the next, a vast, echoing chamber filled with the smell of wet wool and old coal dust. The air is thick, heavy with the humidity of a place where time has pooled and stagnated like spilled milk. You are an immigrant, or you were, before the borders of the world...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded SutraMarta woke with the taste of copper in her mouth. The dream was still there. Thick. Heavy. A red brick wall, crumbling into dust. She spat. The taste remained. "Up," said a voice. Not a voice. A vibration in the floorboards. Marta sat up. Her office chair creaked. It was an old chair. The leather was peeling. It smelled of stale coffee and dry rot. She looked at the desk. A single apple sat in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RootThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old university campus into mirrors reflecting a sky so heavy with cloud it seemed to press down upon the spires of the gothic architecture. Professor Elias Thorne moved through the corridors with the careful, deliberate gait of a man whose knees had begun to betray the weight of his years,...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
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